


Exhibition

by Gangstertogangster



Category: Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Art museum, Canon Compliant, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gangstertogangster/pseuds/Gangstertogangster
Summary: Another month or two ago fic I want to post because I want to know how it could be improved on. Also I'm trying to think of new ideas for new writing in the meantime.Trigger warning for a homophobic slur used in a thought one of the characters has.OK little Shadymariah fic I was working on and failing to get right. Mariah takes Shades to a Kehinde Wiley exhibit at the Brooklyn museum. It’s bad, I know.I decided to add some headcanons I just came up with while writing this over like a week or two on and off. Shades likes drawing, especially drawing his two loves. Che and Mariah. Shades is into graffiti art. He spray painted the ‘Rivals’ graffiti in that photo.Like with Matt and Elektra, Shades tries to get Mariah some roses but she recoils. I decided she would love daffodils because she looks amazing in yellows and whites and golds, and also because they symbolize hope. Plus roses have sinister connotations because of Mama Mabel cutting off fingers with rose clippers.





	Exhibition

The Brooklyn Museum was closed, save for a few security guards. Mariah wanted to show Hernan some art. He wanted a change of pace, so she switched it up. He admired art, like the art the people around him created, the graffiti murals up and down Manhattan, the vibrant ads for local businesses, the works some of his neighbors would create on paper or canvas. 

Art was for the maricon, he was told time and time again by peers in one way or another. Not graffiti, that was for the illest. So naturally Hernan gravitated towards it. It was boosting credibility, not sitting in a corner sketching some shit. Though he still did. People. Especially Mariah, older and aloof and unaware of his existence then. Things change so fast. 

Hernan’s eyes wandered over the numerous paintings on exhibition. The floral, tapestry-like backgrounds and the regal, royal poses of black men and women in modern attire, though some were on horseback. He had never seen anything like it before. The eyes in each portrait stared him down. He had taken his sunglasses off when he first entered the museum, at Mariah’s request. He had nothing to hide behind. 

He could imagine Che against one such backdrop, tattooed body on display against a medley of flowers, he would really like these paintings…Once he got out Hernan could show him. He shook the thought. No way was Che getting out so soon. Why was he thinking about his boy when his girl was right here? 

He could tell why she loved these so much. Royal postures, kings and queens lining the gallery walls. He would surround her with roses, no wait, she didn’t like roses much for some reason, she preferred daffodils. Roses made her shiver, recoil. She claimed it was the thorns. He knew better than to press for more.

He’d have her painted in lemony yellow, though a bright red backdrop was so much more her style. Maybe red daffodils existed? He wasn’t sure. Or gold. A thick, rich, gold. Daffodils dripping in gold. He would have her done in a white, curve-hugging dress, the kind she always wore when presiding over the Paradise. Her full lips in a partial pout. Her deep brown eyes staring daggers out at the viewer. What did he know about art? Kehinde made him feel like he knew more than what he might have before. 

He would have her posed like one of these regal figures, for sure, one arm akimbo, the other at her side. The stare would be her looking down at you. From that balcony. He shivered as he thought of her figure lording over the Paradise, beckoning him, directing him towards her, in front of her, beneath her…

“What do you think, Hernan?” He knew by the heavy scent of her perfume, her lotions, just the vibe of her, she was approaching. He didn’t turn around. 

“These are amazing paintings. I didn’t know museums recognized real art.”

“You just have to look, and if they aren’t there, you push for change.That’s what my initiatives and my buildings…” 

“I did some bombing way back when” Hernan said offhandedly. 

Mariah’s eyes widened, her lips curling into a pleasantly surprised smile. “Oh?” 

Hernan pivoted, turned to Mariah, nodded his head. “I would do the Rivals sign. All over the city. All over Harlem. All bright colors and 3-D lettering, all that shit…” Hernan shook his head, grinning at the memories. Che usually keeping watch in case cops showed. Romeo bored as hell. 

“Hmm. Did you ever draw any?” 

Hernan stopped talking. He paused. He drew closer towards her, their bodies inches apart. “Yeah I drew.”

“People?”

He chuckled dryly. “So many, usually bitche…broads I had my eye on.” And Comanche. Romeo. Janis, his own mother, tios, tias, cousins, old Hector, the Fania All Stars, and you so many times you…. 

Mariah smiled, fixing him with a curious gaze. She stroked the back of his neck. That always got him going. “You ever draw me?”

He snaked his hands around her waist, moving down towards her butt. “I may’ve sketched out some stuff…” 

“You wanna show me how you’d do it?” She pulled him in for a kiss, moving him towards the bare wall with the exhibition description. He felt the blood rushing through his body. She stood with her back right up on the wall. He grabbed her tenderly, not too firm. 

“Yeah” he murmured. He pulled away suddenly, his forehead wrinkling. “Wait, wait, hold up. Ain’t security…” She just put a finger over his mouth. 

“Security ain’t” she purred, her hands falling back to position on his chest. “I wanted to take you to the museum” she smiled and pulled him in closer to her. Nothing but heat between the two of them. He grinned. They kissed passionately through his smile. “Draw me for real some time, baby” she whispered. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He nodded, kissing her again, trying to focus more on the art at hand than the prospect of picking up a pencil to draw her again.


End file.
